


Hotel California Part 13: Return to the Loft

by carolroi (CarolROI)



Series: Hotel California [15]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Drama, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 09:48:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9229316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarolROI/pseuds/carolroi
Summary: Blair's return to the loft does not go quite the way he planned.





	

**Author's Note:**

> After the events of TSbyBS, Blair leaves Cascade to deal with the consequences of his relationship with Jim. He retreats to the Hotel California and the life and Mistress he left behind five years ago.
> 
> This story contains scenes of safe, sane and consensual B/D and S/M. It also has pairings of Blair/F, Blair/M and Blair/F/M. Enemas and women topping men are also found within. If these are not your things, click the back button now.

I awaken to the sensation of fingertips stroking my ass. Julia is lying beside me, having peeled the covers down past my thighs, and is tracing the marks left over from last night's scene at the club. I let out a sigh, and she leans forward to kiss my cheek. "So beautiful, pet. Anyone looking at your ass today would know it was mine." Her hand slides in between my cheeks and taps the plug I'm still wearing. "Let's get this out." She plays with me as she removes it, twisting and rocking it, sending sparks straight to my cock. 

A nudge on my shoulder indicates I should roll over, and I turn onto my back, my hands going above my head, removing the temptation to touch myself. "What a good boy you are," she praises, rising up to straddle my thighs. She runs her hands slowly up my naked body, letting her palms rest on my chest as her thumbs tease my nipples into taut, aching points. She scoots back a little until she's sitting on my knees, giving her unhindered access to my fully erect cock. She glides a forefinger over the reddened tip, through the fluid seeping from the slit in the center. "So pretty, all hot and needy." Picking up something from the bedside table, she dangles it from a finger. "And something so gorgeous needs some jewelry to show it off." 

The item she's holding is a slim, stainless steel rod, hooked at one end, with a rubber ring going through an opening in the hook. A low groan escapes me at the thought of it. A prince's wand—I haven't worn one in years. "Mistress?"

Julia raises an eyebrow. "Yes, slave?" 

"May I have permission to relieve myself first, Mistress?"

Laughing she rises off me. "Of course, sorry, I forgot that necessity."

I quickly take care of business, making sure I wash my cock thoroughly after. I return to find Julia gloved up and waiting for me. Resuming our positions on the bed, she generously lubes the wand, then grasps my penis just behind the glans. I tighten my grip on the headboard as she squeezes to widen my slit, and slowly presses the rod into my now diamond hard cock. "Oh, fuck!" I gasp, my hips moving in spite of my best efforts. The damn thing isn't smooth after all, it's a series of irregularly sized little beads, each one a delicious torture as it disappears inside me. 

Julia's wise enough not to stop until it's fully seated in me, the hook curving over the top of my glans, the rubber ring holding it snugly in place just behind the crown. She leans her weight forward to stop my writhing, her hands splaying to either side of my cock, her fingers curving around my hips. "Easy, Blair, easy. Is it too much?"

"Ungh, oh...god...no...I can take it...just...give me a few..." Closing my eyes, I concentrate on taking deep breaths, letting the sensation fade. Now that it's in me, it's just an uncomfortable pressure, it was the feel of those beads going in that was overwhelming. Julia's rubbing my stomach in gentle circles when I open my eyes. Bending, she kisses me tenderly. Lying down next to me, she opens her arms and I move into them, needing to be held. 

She strokes my hair and kisses my forehead and I hold on to her, feeling my cock slowly deflate. "Think you can handle that for a couple of hours? I know revisiting the loft is going to be difficult and I thought maybe a distraction might be in order. Also it's a reminder that you are mine, precious, that every part of you, even your most intimate places, belongs to me."

"Yes, Mistress," I answer. "Thank you for marking me as yours." She hugs me tighter, and we lie together comfortably until a knock on the door signals the arrival of our breakfast.

* * *

Once we're up and dressed, Julia in a short denim skirt and cotton tank top, and me in a blue t-shirt and khakis, I make a call to the loft from the inn's phone, making sure Jim is at work. I hang up when the answering machine kicks on, and we head over there, Julia driving as I give directions. I make her circle around the block a couple times, checking for any sign of Jim's truck. What I'm really doing is trying to get my courage up. It was my decision to come here, but the tension in my gut at returning to what was my home is making me nauseated. 

Julia finally pulls into a parking space in front of the building and reaches over to squeeze my cold fingers. "I know this is hard, precious, but you have to start moving forward sometime."

Nodding, I grip her hand tightly for a moment. "You're right, as always." I give her a smile that feels a bit tremulous. "I really want my running shoes and my guitar. And if what Dagne said Saturday night is true, I'll need my research." 

Julia opens her car door. "That's right, keep your eye on the prize." She grabs her tote from the back seat and follows me into 852 Prospect. I lead her up the three flights of stairs, another delaying tactic, and stand in front of the door to 307. Her hand rubs gently between my shoulder blades, and I take a deep breath, digging out my key and finally opening the door. 

The loft hasn't changed. Mid-morning spring sunshine spilling through the balcony doors and skylight fills the place with golden light. I enter slowly, Julia at my heels. "This is it," I tell her, "this is where I spent the last four years of my life." This is where I fucked it all up, where I lost myself.

She gives me a little push into the room. "Give me the nickel tour ."

Shrugging, I say, "There's not much to see." I open the french doors to the room under Jim's. "This was my room." It's less cluttered than it used to be, all my books and artifacts on loan from the university having been returned. Julia walks inside, running her fingers over the desktop, straightening the cover on the futon. 

"Cozy," she says, "but not much privacy. I remember you saying that was a problem." 

"Um-hmm," I answer, crossing to the dresser and digging out a gym bag. I start tossing clothes in it. "Feel free to look around." 

"Believe me, I will." She gives me a one-armed squeeze from behind and kisses my cheek. "It'll be okay, Blair. I'll just be right outside." 

She walks back into the living room, and I feel myself smiling, giving silent thanks to the universe for my mistress. 

It only takes me a couple minutes to finish packing the few clothes, books and cds I want to take back to the Hotel with me. Setting my bag and my two guitar cases by the front door, I look around for Julia, but she's not in sight. "Mistress?"

"Up here." Her voice wafts down from Jim's bedroom. My stomach clenches, but I start up the stairs anyway. Julia is standing by Jim's bed, her hazel eyes taking everything in. The bed is made with military precision, and the top of the dresser, unlike mine in the room below, is clutter free and dustless. "Was it hard, living with Jim?" 

I run my hand slowly over the railing at the front of Jim's room and turn to look out over the rest of the loft. "Yes," I finally answer, "but I didn't realize that at the time." I startle a little at the feeling of her arms going around my waist then relax as she leans up against my back. "I think living here took away a lot of my objectivity when it came to my thesis."

"And?" she presses, rubbing her cheek on my shoulder. 

"And the more I immersed myself in Jim's world the more I hid of myself to try and fit in, to stay in his world. Until it was all over, I didn't realize how lost I'd become, how much I'd hurt myself trying to live up to what I thought he needed me to be." I scrub my hands over my face, surprised to find my cheeks wet. "Turns out, maybe he didn't need me at all."

Julia turns me to face her. "I don't think that's true, but I do think you're right in that you lost you, or at least the person you were when you left me." At my stricken look, she says quickly, "No, I don't mean it like that. We were friends then, we were mistress and slave, but we weren't in a relationship. I had no expectations of you coming back to me. But you left for your expedition, and the experiences that you've had since then changed you, and from everything we've shared since you came back, I don't think you believe the changes were for the better." She wipes at my tear-streaked face tenderly. 

"No," I say hoarsely, "they weren't for the better. I wouldn't be in this shape now if they had been." She hugs me tightly then releases me and returns downstairs.

When I follow, I find her leaning against the dining table, one of her long bondage scarves in her hands. The sudden rush of blood to my cock makes me dizzy and I have to rest a hand on the pillar next to the stairs to steady myself. "Mistress?" I whisper.

"Give me your hands," she commands, and I hold them out to her, wrists together. She binds them securely, leaving the long ends trailing. Glancing around the loft for the best place to tie me, she turns me to face the pillar. Raising up on tiptoe, she wraps the ends of the scarf around it and ties it off. I'm now facing the post, my arms stretched above my head, my heels slightly off the floor. 

She comes up behind me and runs her hands up under my shirt, her fingers finding and twisting my nipple rings. I gasp and shudder. She nips at my earlobe, her voice wickedly soft as she says "I am going to fuck you, here, in this place where you have never been fucked." A moan escapes me as her hands lower to my waist and undo my belt buckle, sliding the leather free of the loops on my pants. Unzipping my khakis, she pushes them roughly down my legs to pool at my ankles. Her fingers close around the shaft of my swollen cock, her thumb flicking the end of the prince's wand emerging from the slit in the glans. 

I inhale loudly and thrust forward, the head of my cock impacting the metal cladding of the post, sending a second, harder vibration through the wand. Shaking, I brace my forearms against the pillar, trying to keep some kind of space between my aching genitals and the hard surface. From behind me, I hear the sharp snap of Mistress Julia cracking my belt, and knowledge of what's to come flows over me in a sensual rush. Her hand brushes over my ass then pushes my legs further apart. 

"This is just for me, pet, because I love to fuck you when your ass is bright red and burning hot from my strap." I feel her step back, then the doubled loop of my belt strikes the back of my thighs. The sound is harsh and jarring in the stillness and bright sunshine of the loft and I cry out "One". I count out each fiery lash she layers over already welted flesh until tears blur my eyes and my words become sobs. She stops then, her hands stroking over my heated skin. 

"Oh, you are so beautiful, precious, such lovely crimson stripes." Gloved fingers slip between my cheeks, rubbing over my tight anus. Fingers penetrate me leaving behind a slick coating of lube, but there's none of the lengthy preparation she usually does. Closing my eyes, I press my face against my arm, knowing what's coming next is going to hurt. She spreads my buttocks, the head of her dildo seeking my entrance. Her arm locks around my waist, pulling me back as she strokes forward, sliding in to the hilt. I muffle my scream against my bicep. Her cock is bumped and ridged and twisted and it's agony and it's glorious. 

She fucks me almost savagely, with each thrust my aching cock hits the pillar in front of me. "Going to come, Mistress!" I manage to gasp. Her fingers close around my balls, twisting hard as I yelp. 

"Not. Until. I. Say. So," she grits out, each word punctuated with a thrust. I'm reduced to wordless noises as her speed increases, then she's biting my shoulder growling, "Come for me!"

My cock strikes the post once more, the shock wave ringing through the wand deep into my groin, meeting the burning rush of my orgasm. I cry out, stiffening, feeling Julia grinding against me, overcome by her own release. We stand there panting, me leaning against the pillar, Julia leaning against me, our hearts pounding, our limbs trembling. Her fingers stroke over the head of my still semi-hard cock, gathering the cum that leaked out around the wand. She raises her hand to my mouth, and I suck her fingers inside, closing my eyes at the taste of myself on my tongue. She moves again, her thrusts matching the rhythm of my suckling. Her dildo strikes my prostate and I see stars as fireworks explode inside me. 

When I'm somewhat coherent again, I feel Julia pulling gently out of me, not wanting to hurt me any further. She kisses the back of my neck, running her hands down my chest, over my bare pubis and my thighs, then lightly over my buttocks. I let out a low hiss, but it's a good pain, of the kind I've grown to love. She grasps my now soft cock, squeezing the head of it so she can slip the ring holding the prince's wand in place over the crown and off. She eases the wand out slowly, catching any remaining dribbles of cum in her hand, and I obediently lave it clean. 

When she unties the scarf from the post, I drop to my knees, feeling the ache in my thighs and calves from standing on my toes for so long. Julia's fingers twist through my curls and she lifts my head gently. "Clean that up, slave," she commands, pointing at the flecks of my orgasm on the metal pillar.

"Yes, Mistress," I reply then lean forward, licking up my spilled seed. When I'm through, I turn around but remain on my knees, watching as my mistress removes her dildo. It's one of the one's that fits up inside her, allowing her to use it without a harness and letting her come from the friction of fucking me. She is sexy as hell when she wears it. 

She drops the dildo and my wand into a large zip-lock bag and tosses it into her tote which is sitting on the dining table. "Did you get all of that clean?" she asks, walking toward me to inspect my work.

I nod. "Yes, Mistress." 

"So I see." She stops in front of me, her skirt still up around her hips, her thighs and mound glistening with her juices. "I have another job for you. Put that lovely tongue to good use." 

Scooting forward until I'm pressed against her legs, I lick the nectar from her thighs, from her smooth mound and, at the urging of her hand against the back of my head, I tongue and nip and suckle her sex. I plunge my tongue inside, her low moaning making my poor, abused cock twitch into life again. She slides down me to straddle my thighs and I raise my still bound hands to give her room to slip a condom over my erection. I bring my arms down around her as she takes me inside her, wriggling a bit to get us fully joined. She kisses me, her tongue gliding over mine, tasting herself on me.

Her hands move up under my shirt, finding and teasing my nipples, twisting and flicking the rings, making me keen low in my throat. She rocks us together, only moving slightly up and down, but contracting and releasing her internal muscles, massaging my cock. She bites and suckles at my throat, the side of my neck, my lips. "Come for me, precious," she croons, "come for me." She tightens around me, shuddering as her orgasm takes her, and I follow, pressing myself deep inside her.

We remain on the floor like that for probably a quarter hour, her hands stroking my back, my hair. I bury my face in the join of her neck and shoulder, surprised and yet not at the hot tears spilling down my cheeks. I feel—released, somehow, like some shackle inside me has been broken. I sit back up, and Julia wipes at the remnants of my tears with the bottom of her shirt, then kisses me gently. "You ready to go?"

"Yeah, I am," I reply softly. Then there is much giggling as we try to get up, hampered by my tied hands around her, and her trying not to let the condom slip off and spill on the floor. Finally we are disentangled, untied and fully dressed again. We both gaze round the loft looking for anything we left behind. Finding nothing, we head for the door. I grab my guitars and Julia takes my bag and her tote. As the door closes behind us, the crushing regret I felt when I left over a month ago is gone. This time, I feel free, something I haven't felt in a very long time.

* * *

Before we leave the building, I run down to the basement where I'd stored all my anthropological research from over the years and drag up three file boxes. After stowing my things in the back of the SUV, Julia tosses me the keys. I quirk an eyebrow at her, but she just smiles and climbs in the passenger seat. A hand on my arm stops me after I get in, before I turn on the car. 

"How do you feel?" She inclines her head in the direction of the loft. 

I gaze up at the balcony of 307, inhaling a long breath. "The anxiety about going back there is gone," I finally say even though I know she is not going to be satisfied with that. 

"Why do you think I performed that scene with you, tied you up, whipped you, fucked you?" Her hand slides between my legs and firmly grips my cock through my pants. Despite our recent activities, I grow hard.

"I—" The thought strikes me that she came very prepared for what was supposed to be a ten minute raid on my closet. "You planned all that."

She laughs, leaning over to give me a kiss on the lips. "Yes, yes, I did, from the moment you said you were ready to come back here."

A rush of warmth and love for her flows through me, making my eyes sting with tears. "You wanted me to be myself there, to be this _me_ , the true me, not the one who spent nearly four years suffocating himself in that place." 

Nodding, Julia reaches up to wipe away the moisture on my cheeks. "I wanted you to see yourself as you truly are, a strong, beautiful, willing, _sexual_ being. It's the purest, most natural part of all of us, Blair, and you hid that from yourself for so long." She kisses me again, and I let myself luxuriate in the tender touch of her lips, the sensual sweep of her tongue over mine. 

Finally Julia sits back with one last squeeze of my dick. "So I'll ask you again, how do you feel?" 

It takes me a few moments to come back to the conversation after that brief dive into carnal waters, but I find the right word. "Lighter. I feel lighter, like a weight I didn't know I was carrying is gone."

She buckles her seatbelt, her smiling eyes never leaving mine. "Okay, pet, I'm starving and you're the Cascade native. Take us to the best place for lunch in this town."

Giving her a grin, I start the car. "Oh, you are in for a treat, Mistress. When it comes to food, I will never steer you wrong."

* * *

After careful consideration of where we could go that would be the least likeliest place for us to run into anyone I know, I take Julia to the Dockside Diner. It's forty minutes from the station and, like the name says, on the waterfront. I park the car at the curb next to the diner and get out to walk around the SUV to open my mistress' door. Julia gives me a brief hug once she's standing on the sidewalk and says, "You always had very good manners. From now until I say so, though, I want us to be Julia and Blair, not mistress and pet, all right?"

I nod in agreement, though I am a little confused. I've been out in public many times with her as my mistress and I'd always thought I'd played the role well without drawing eyes to us. The motion of Julia digging in her wallet for some change brings my attention back to her. Pointing to the newspaper boxes at the entrance to the diner, she says, "Get us the local papers." I do this as she goes on inside to get us a table. 

I join Julia at a booth in a back corner, tossing the papers on the formica surface. "Here you go, morning and evening editions. What do you want them for?"

Picking up one of the papers, she pushes the other in my direction. "I'm still thinking about what Lady Vanessa said to us last night at the club, about there being someone out there who plays too rough, who breaks his toys. What do you think she meant by that? You're the one with the inside knowledge of the police department."

She starts looking through the pages, but I can tell most of her attention is on me. "She had Megan with her, that means that SVU is working with Major Crime, so that means a big case, high profile victim or multiple victims." Julia nods at me to continue. "They were at the club because it has to be someplace the victim frequented, or there is some connection between the club, the victim, or the suspect. Or a connection to the B and D community."

"Exactly what I'm thinking. If the victim or suspect is a member of the community, it's possible I know them, or know of them. That's what Lady Vanessa's warning was about. When I told her it was the first time I'd been to Sadie's in ages, she didn't go any further with her questions." 

Frowning, I say, "She made the assumption that because you're based in Seattle you wouldn't have any information. You're saying that might not be true." 

"Between Patrick and myself, we know a lot of people in the life. It's possible we might know something that could help." She turns her gaze to the paper perusing the headlines.

"What am I looking for?" I ask, opening up the evening paper, the Cascade Times, after a waitress has come by and taken our orders.

"I think it's one of those 'I'll know it when I see it things'. Recent unnatural death or deaths I would guess. She said someone who plays 'too rough', so I would maybe rule out gunshots as cause of death." 

There's silence between us for several minutes before I turn to the city section. "I think I have something." Folding the paper so only the one article is showing, I slide it across the table to her. 

"Body Found in Warehouse Identified," she reads aloud. "The body found in an abandoned warehouse on the 13th Street Pier April 18th has been identified as Martin Cummings, assistant to the Mayor. Cause of death is under investigation. Not much else there," she says, looking up at me. 

"I know, but it fits the high profile/big case check box. And lack of info in the story is telling. They're keeping the details from the press on purpose. Does his name ring any bells with you?"

As I've been speaking, Julia has been searching through her own paper, the Star, for the same story. "Ah ha!" she exclaims holding up an article with a head-shot of Cummings. He looks to be in his mid-thirties, with dark wavy hair and horn-rimmed glasses. "I recognize the name now that I have a face to go with it. I've seen him around Sadie's and I think he was with a group that rented my playroom about two years ago."

The waitress shows up with our food then and we put the newspapers aside. Julia's ordered a bacon cheeseburger with sweet potato fries and I'm looking at a tuna melt with a side of vegetable soup. I raise an eyebrow at the giant sandwich on her plate.

"What? I'm hungry. I worked up an appetite on you," she laughs. 

We eat in silence for a while, and I'm surprised to find how hungry I am. I'm helping Julia finish the last of her fries when I venture a question. "Why are you so interested in this case? It doesn't really have anything to do with us, does it?" 

Leaning back in her seat, her legs crossed yoga style, Julia slurps the last of her milkshake noisily, and I smile. _I could watch her do this every day for the rest of my life..._ The thought startles me but before my mind can race off to look for the meaning behind it, she speaks, her voice low and intense. "This guy is killing people in _my_ community. We fly under the radar for a reason, Blair, you know that. This person, whoever he is, is reinforcing all the harmful stereotypes about us. He's hurting me and you just by existing. I want him gone." Eyes flashing, she sets her glass down on the table with a thump. 

If I had forgotten that Julia is an alpha, I'm reminded now at the power visible in every line of her body. Something in my expression must have alarmed her, because she reaches across the table to take my hand. "Sorry, precious," she soothes, "I didn't mean to frighten you. It's just guys like him piss me off."

Giving her hand a squeeze to let her know I'm okay, I say, "You keep saying 'him'. How can you be so sure this person is male?"

Moving her plate out of the way, Julia leans on her arms toward me. "Think about it, Blair, you've dealt with criminals. Most killers are male and, in my experience, it's the male doms who are more willing to take chances, to engage in risky play. Accidental deaths have occurred during play; it's been documented. There's usually only two ways some one gets hurt playing. One: they're playing above their experience level and something goes wrong, or two: it's deliberate. But Lady Vanessa said 'toys'. An accident happens once. Most people aren't going to repeat that kind of bad experience."

"Meaning you think there's more than one victim?" 

"If so, then someone is using BDSM to kill." On that chilling note, Julia picks up the check and heads for the register. I follow, memories of David Lash suddenly fresh in my mind.

* * *

Julia takes over the driver's seat again once we exit the diner. "Is that warehouse mentioned in the paper around here somewhere?"

I get an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. "About a half mile from here, why?"

"I want to drive by it, give it a look-see. Maybe something about it will give me an idea about who could have done this."

Against my better judgment, I give her the directions, and five minutes later we're driving past a long row of empty factory buildings flanked on one side by 13th Street and the other by the old pier sticking out into the ocean. The one we're looking for is distinguishable from the others only by yellow police tape fluttering outside it in the wind. There's no sign of a police presence though.

Julia pulls the SUV to the curb and parks. She sits there for several minutes, looking up at the broken windows and crumbling brickwork, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. David Lash is making his unwelcome presence known in the back of my mind, his sing-song of "Hairy-Blairy" echoing in my thoughts. 

My mistress' hand on my arm makes me jump. "You okay, Blair? You're pale as a ghost."

"I'm—" I start to answer, then shake my head. "No, I'm not. This is—this is like the warehouse Lash held me in."

Her fingers intertwine with mine in a reassuring grip. "You said he was dead, right?"

"Very. In my head, not so much." I flash back to the bondage session that went awry, that instead of reminding me how to submit, brought buried memories of Lash sexually assaulting me to the surface. 

"It's okay, we can leave if it's too overwhelming to be here--"

I cut her off. "No. He fucked with my head enough when he was alive. I'm not going to let him do it when he's dead." Letting go of her hand, I get out of the car and start toward the warehouse. 

I hear Julia's door shut behind me and the scuff of her sneakers on the gravel lot as she trots to catch up with me. She grabs hold of my hand. "You don't have to do this alone." 

Pausing at the yawning entrance to the building, I turn to her, a smile on my lips. "I know." Together we cross the threshold. 

After all that build up, it's rather anti-climatic. It's like every other abandoned warehouse I've ever been in, including the one I lived in for a while. It's empty, cold, damp, and the wind whistles through the chinks in the mortar. There's plenty of light, though, shining through the broken windows and the holes in the roof. 

There's more crime scene tape here, and a chalk outline marks the spot on the floor where the body was found. Julia looks around, but doesn't move from my side, a frown causing a crease to form between her eyebrows. "I thought there would be more to see." 

"The crime scene techs would have taken any evidence away with them." Letting go of her hand, I circle the perimeter of the room, looking for disturbances in the dirt on the floor. Other than the footprints of the cops, I don't find any. "I don't think he was killed here." 

"Why?"

I cross back to her side and point out the marks in the dirt. "This is where the body was found. All the prints around it are from the cops, save perhaps one set from the killer. Think about it. If you were going to set a scene here, what would you expect to see?"

She walks around the chalk marks on the floor, then examines the walls and the ceiling. "There's no evidence any equipment was here. No place to hang restraints, no marks on the floor where a post or a frame sat. No circling footprints." She moves around me to demonstrate, her arm raising and lowering to indicate flogger strikes on my back, my thighs, my chest, my ass. "A dom would never stand in one place in a scene. We're always moving."

I nod grimly. "This was a body dump." 

Julia shudders, then slips her arm around my waist. "You're right, this place is creepy. There's nothing we can learn here. Let's go home." 

"Yes, Mistress," I answer, and we walk back to the car, our moods subdued.

* * *

Later that night, back home safely at the Hotel, Julia tests the soft velvet rope tying my wrists to the headboard of her bed. "Not too tight?" 

I shake my head. "No, Mistress." She does the same for the ropes just above my knees that are holding my thighs up and apart. I'm on my back, in my favorite, hated, position, pillows under my buttocks raising them up, my ass and genitals on shameless display. 

Julia settles between my spread legs, her hands lightly stroking my cheeks and thighs. "You are so beautiful, precious, your ass and thighs are still showing my marks from last night and this morning." Bending down, she scrapes her teeth over a welt on the inside of my thigh and a long, hard shudder rolls through me. "Easy, easy, pet. Tonight is going to be some gentler play." She rubs soothing circles with one hand over my taut abdomen. "Gentler, but intense." Picking up a leather strap from the bed, she fastens it tightly around the base of my cock and balls. "No coming without permission."

"Thank you, Mistress," I manage to gasp out as her fingers begin to knead my testes. Her motions are firm and steady, just on the edge of pain, making both my balls and my cock swell and tighten. Her hands move down, pressing and rubbing against my perineum. My ass bucks up off the mattress, and her hand pushes on my hip, holding me down. I'm whimpering in my throat, the sensation too much to bear. She lifts her hands away then, letting them lightly rest on my inner thighs, her thumbs stroking the sensitive skin there. 

"Breathe, pet, breathe. In and out. In and out." I close my eyes and concentrate on my breathing, shutting out the erotic image of the two of us in the mirror over the bed. "That's it, precious, relax." I feel her shift position on the bed, leaning over me. Lips surround my right nipple and she sucks gently, her tongue flicking my nipple ring. My grip on the headboard tightens and the bed squeaks as my back arches up. "You like that, don't you, pet," she says, her fingers pinching and twisting my left nipple, making me gasp at the sharp pain. "You love me playing with your nipples, playing with your cock," she flicks a fingernail against the swollen, leaking head, "playing with your sweet ass." A fingertip grazes my anus. 

A low humming starts and I open my eyes to see my Mistress attaching a small bullet-type vibrator to her right index finger. "Oh, yes, we're going to have some fun with this." She touches my anus, then my perineum, then just below the crown of my cock. Writhing, a scream catching in my throat, a dry orgasm tears through me, leaving me panting and teary. It takes me a bit to come down, and when awareness returns, Julia is lightly stroking the smooth skin of my pubic mound. "How did that feel, precious?"

"Hurt..." I manage. "Good...hurt...more..."

"More what?" she asks, smiling down at me.

"More...please, Mistress..."

"Such a good slave, remembering your manners." She begins to rub the vibrator lightly against the sensitive furl of my anus. It's not enough, and I let out groan of impatience. "Sorry, pet, I'm not going to fuck you tonight. I know I was rough with you this morning and you have to be hurting." I am, but I'm a greedy SOB and I want her in me all the time, even when it aches. 

"Speaking of this morning," she says, pressing the vibrator a little harder against my avaricious hole, "I know you haven't forgotten the fact that Jim is a sentinel, and that when he comes home today he is going to smell you, he is going to know you were at the loft."

"Yes, Mistress." My mind is forced to acknowledge that truth I've tried very hard not to think about.

"He's going to know you were there; he's going to know what you did, what you've _never_ done there." Her words are taking me back and I'm twisting, thrusting on the bed, trying to find some kind of friction, some way to relieve the agony in my cock and balls, but her hands move to my thighs, holding me still. She lowers her voice to a sensual rasp. "He's going to smell your hot, burning, delicious cum, and he's going to know I fucked you there, that I tied you up and whipped you and plunged my cock in your ass--"

"Please! Please, Mistress!" 

"Look at yourself, precious, look in the mirror--" my gaze lifts to the ceiling and goes to my purple, swollen cock--"Do you think he can sense this, smelling you, smelling your sex, your desire, your need to come with my cock in your ass!" She rips off the cock ring and I'm screaming out my release, hot ribbons of seed raining down on my belly, my chest, coming from her words and the picture they paint in my mind, the picture of Jim zoning on the scent of my orgasm.

* * *

When I open my eyes again, Julia has untied me and cleaned me up. She's spooned behind me, one arm under my neck, her other, gloved, hand pressing lubed fingers inside me. I give a little gasp, and she says, "Just want to put a small plug in you, precious, I think you need that tonight." 

Letting out a shaky breath, I nod. Planting kisses across the back of my neck and along my shoulders, she slips a long, thin plug inside me, its surface smooth and cool against my aching tissues. She plays with it, pulling it part way out and letting my greedy ass suck it back in. My cock is too tired to get interested, but the pleasant sensations and the emotional connection I feel from Julia are soothing the ache in my mind and heart.

Rolling toward her, I rest my forehead on her shoulder, hiding from her. "Why did you open that door?" I finally whisper. 

She pulls me closer, her fingers carding through my short curls. "Just because a door is closed, precious, doesn't mean the room behind it is empty. There was always more there than what you've been telling me."

God...Jim. How could I have been so blind to my own feelings? I was hiding my kinks from myself and Jim; I guess I buried those tendrils of attraction pretty well too. Faint wisps they were, feelings I'd never recognized until I'd played those scenes with Patrick and discovered my body could find the touch and feel of a man arousing. Feelings I hadn't associated with Jim until just now, when Julia connected his sentinel abilities to sensing my sexual desires. My subconscious had been pretty busy hiding all the things I thought were wrong about me from me. 

She tilts my head up, kissing away the tears I don't even feel rolling down my cheeks. "Do you love him?" she asks. 

It takes me a long time to wrap my head around the question. Once upon a time, before Alex, before Jim's rejection after the fountain, before the dissertation mess, maybe...maybe... "No," I finally whisper. "There's no trust there any longer. He's hurt me too often and too deeply. I can't keep going back to be hurt again. Jim's stuck where he is emotionally. My whole reason in coming here is to learn how to move on, how to heal those wounds inside me." 

She rocks me in her embrace, kissing my forehead. "You are amazing, Blair. You are so fucking strong. You **will** get through this," she tells me fiercely. Her lips taste mine with soft little nips, then she whispers in my ear, "Go to sleep, precious...love you so much..."

With those sweet words ringing in my head, exhausted, I sleep.


End file.
